Night Visitation
by JaimeBlue
Summary: Sequel to His Mother's Son A look at the relationship between Theresa & a young Tim O'Neill.


Title: Night Visitation 

Author: JaimeBlue 

Fandom: seaQuest 

Rating: G 

Series/Sequel: In the same 'universe' as "His Mother's Son" 

Disclaimer: seaQuest's character's don't belong to me, but Theresa, Mark, Nanny & the rest of the clan *do* 

Summary: Another look into the relationship between Theresa and Tim O'Neill. 

A/N: I imagine Tim to be about 6-8 years old in this installment. 

A/N2: FYI, there are at least 2 more snippet/stories planned along this line. 

A/N3: To recap: Theresa is Tim's mother, Mark is his father, and Nanny is his grandmother.   
  


~*~*~*~   
  


Theresa quietly opened the door to her home, sneaking a peek at her watch as she did so. 11:45pm. She sighed as she removed her coat, hanging it up alongside those of her husband and their remaining guests. 

Once again, she'd missed a holiday with her family. Thanksgiving was supposed to be a time of joy and reunions and family, but it also meant time-and-a-half for whoever volunteered for shifts at the hospital on the holiday weekend. It was money her family needed for there were bills to pay, and what money they'd managed to stash away from Mark's wages could only go so far, now that winter was approaching and the demand for labourers' seasonal wok was low. 

She nodded a greeting at Mark and ruffled her older brother's hair as she passed him and the couch. She avoided her mother's icy glare - the elder woman just didn't think it was right for a woman to spend a holiday away from her family - and walked up the stairs to the upper floor. She stopped in her and Mark's bedroom, grabbing a paper bag from the closet before creeping into her son's room. 

She spent several minutes standing by the door, watching her Timothy as he slept soundly, unaware of his mother's presence. Finally, she sighed and stepped over to one of his dressers, carefully avoiding the toys strewn about the floor, and opened up the bag. One by one, she took out three books and a package containing two cassettes, then opened the package, placing one of the cassettes into Timothy's miniature stereo. 

Her work done, she turned back to her son's bed and gently sat down upon the edge. She smiled as she noticed his tiny glasses on the night table, placed right next to a picture of the family that had been taken after she and Mark had lifted six-year-old Timothy onto the back of the donkey at the petting zoo. She couldn't resist reaching out to brush the hair from her son's face, and she hated having missed seeing that face as he ate his favourite part of the turkey - the wing. 

"Je t'aime, mon choux," she murmured, leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead. Then, silently, she rose and left him to his dreams. 

~*~*~*~ 

Tim waited until the door clicked shut behind his mother before opening his eyes. She always came to see him after coming home on the nights she had to work late. He was glad that she cared about him so much, but he'd much rather have his Mom home. 

He reached out for his glasses and put them on before quietly sneaking out of his bed, as if any noise would alert his parents to the fact that he was still awake. He went to the dresser and picked up one of the books, turning on a small lamp to read what was written on the cover. 

Teach Yourself Italian. 

He smiled and looked over the rest of his treasures. Aside from the textbook he held in his hands, there was a workbook with a similar cover, an Italian/English dictionary, and a set of language tapes. He held the book close to his heart, hugging it as he would have loved to have hugged his mother, and did his best not to cry, because his Dad always said big boys didn't cry. 

He loved his Dad and he liked doing things with him, except he just wasn't good at the things his Dad liked, like sports and stuff. He liked it when his Nanny took care of him because she'd tell him lots of cool stories, but she was always buying him toy guns and other weird things he didn't really like, and he always had to pretend to like them so as not to hurt her feelings. 

But his Mom, even if she wasn't home very much, she always understood him. She'd taught him how to speak French, Spanish and Latin, and now that he knew them pretty well, she'd found him a new language to learn. 

He smiled, putting the book back on his dresser and shutting off the lamp before creeping back into his bed. 

"I love you too, Mum," he murmured as he fell asleep. 

The End 


End file.
